


Dream of nothing

by Kat2107



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn thinks he is awake.<br/>Finn thinks he made it. He thinks Poe got out alive. Finn thinks they must be safe.<br/>But why then is nobody there? Why does he still hear Poe's screams?<br/>And where is Rey?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream of nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> I'm evil.  
> :)

„Poe!“

Sand swallows his voice, settles on his voice and suffocates it.

It wants to, but this is important.

“POE!”

He is here somewhere. He must be.

They came out of the mad tumble that was the past. Starkiller.

They destroyed it.

Han, Mr. Solo had made sure that they… that they…

But Kylo Ren had killed him.

And something had happened.

"Thank you, my friend. We will see each other again."

In the darkness of a shadowed wasteland Finn swears there are whispers. Sole company among the grey nothingness.

They made it and he needs to get out of here.

He needs to find Poe, the grains of sand under his boots a thousand tiny whispers.

“Finn,” they say. “Finn wake up.”

But Finn is not sleeping.

Finn had woken. Had woken to sun blinding his eyes and heat cooking him alive inside the armor. He had found Rey and Poe’s droid. He had found Poe again.

He had freed Rey. And then…

_But what if you didn’t?_

"Wake up, Finn."

 _You’re still sleeping. Still unconscious._ An unhelpful voice supplies from inside his head. _Useless while your friend, while the man who first thing made sure you had a name, you were a person, is trapped in the TIE you used him to fly._

_You used him for your freedom and now he is locked in. In need of your help. Waiting for the desert to swallow him. Slow suffocation._

“Finn, please buddy, just open your eyes.”

_Until the explosion rips him apart._

“No!” Finn screams into the nothingness of endless interchangeable shades.

They got out. Poe got thrown clear of the TIE.

He is safe. Back where he belongs.

“Please…”

The sand swallows his words, drowns his fear into mute submission.

Finn doesn’t have many friends. He has none now. Slip died. His blood on Finn’s armor the last traces of his existence.

And Poe…

Dark eyes, shimmering with mischief. An inner strength that breaks past the pain, the terror of torture at the first faint ray of hope.

”You need a pilot.”

Finn stares into an endless grey heaven and tries to remember that quick flash of a sunshine smile.

Gleaming teeth between bloodied lips.

All he remembers is the warm shimmer that settled in his stomach. The roar of sudden hope, of joy at the smile.

For him.

“I need a pilot.”

Poe had nodded then, almost laughed.

“We're gonna do this!”

And that had been that.

Poe….

 

The sand stung. It stings now.

How would he know if he never woke up?

How can he know it’s truly the sand, if he never woke up and never experienced it.

Just a thought, but his stomach drops.

 

Poe must be here somewhere. He will find him. He just needs to wake up.

But he is not asleep.

“POE!”

If he never woke…

A faint echo of a scream echoes through the whispering voices. A desperate choke he knows.

The sound of a man getting his soul torn apart.

Poe never made a sound as they beat him bloody with slow methodical strokes, as the drugs burned their way through his system to soften him up for Kylo Ren.

This, this scream, filtered through a cell door is...

Poe!

Where is Rey?

But Rey is with Solo.

Solo is dead.

“REY.”

 

He needs to wake up.

 

 

Finn opens his eyes to cool air. A touch of just a little too much oxygen.

He is not cold. He is nothing.

Not too warm, not too chilly.

Nothingness.

He needs to wake, he needs to…

“No….”

Whispered in the broken voice of a man who has spent too much time not screaming lately. It captures Finn’s attention at once.

There is nothing else that could distract him.

No sand. No wind. No acrid smell of smoke of an almost destroyed TIE fighter.

Turning his head Finn finds a dark shock of hair, an arm clad in orange as pillow for a head resting in sleep next to his hip on a hospital bed. Between them hangs the faint smell of oil and metal, of space and antiseptic and the voice of a man on the verge of breaking. 

“No…please… please don’t.”

There are no screams now, though they still reverberate in Finn’s mind.

The sounds of a mind violated.

“Poe…” Finn expects his voice. What he gets is a pathetic croak. Swallowing hurts with his throat dry as dust. Sand parched.

“Poe.” A whisper this time. Marginally better.

Moving is out of the question. It’s not pain.

It’s not anything but pleasant numbness infusing his body.

Finn expects the blazing pain of his back being split and there sure is a tightness in his muscles, exacerbated by the weakness, but no pain.

The room is sterile. Clean and devoid of anything but the machinery that lowly beeps with each of his heartbeats.

He is alive then.

Kylo Ren.

The lightsaber.

Rey.

But if he is here. And if Han Solo is dead. Poe is free and not locked in a torture chamber (again), his strong, sun-darkened hands curled loosely close to Finn’s…

Stretching his fingers is trying.

‘Move!’ He wants to yell and they do. Slowly. He needs to force each tendon to stretch, skin pulled taught, joints and nerves already having given up on him it seems.

 _Why don’t you just lie back and wait, man?_  Supplies the voice in his head that only minutes prior had tortured him with the idea of Poe’s death.

Minutes? Days?

Poe’s fingers twitch then, brush against Finn’s, curl into a fist with a barely audible whimper of the man.

Pain. Desperation. Tears.

 _Because Poe. That’s why._ It's perhaps best to not dwell for too long on the fact that he is throwing biting comments at imagined voices.

 

Finn forces his lungs to fill on one deep breath, until the muscles pull on the wound and finally he feels the pain.

Faint. Far away.

His fingers uncurl slowly as his hand lifts and turns, landing on Poe’s hair with the grace and gentleness of a collapsing anti grav field.

Hair. Curly dark hair. Unkempt. Needs a wash maybe. Needs a cut. Totally.

Poe. Very much warm alive and Poe. Curling his fingers Finn smiles, digs deeper into the locks, until he can grasp them into a gentle tug.

“shhhhh…” he whispers. “Got you, Poe.”

He doesn’t expect much.

He surely doesn’t expect that, with a shuddering sigh, Poe relents.

And with the faintest of movement maybe, maybe he pushes his head back and into the hand.

Maybe, Finn muses, maybe he is smiling.

 

 


End file.
